mothers day

Remember when the hardest decision you’d have to face all day was what flavor Kool-Aid you wanted to have? It was an important choice, fueled by the fear that if you didn’t pick the right one it wouldn’t complement the taste of your Flintstone’s vitamins. I ate those like crack when I was a kid. When my mom wasn’t looking I’d crawl onto the counter and steal an entire handful and shove them into my grubby little mouth. She caught me once, and moved them to a place where I couldn’t reach no matter how hard I tried. That was the first time I remember wishing that fire would rain down on her. How dare she do such a thing! The nerve of that woman.

Yesterday Alex and I were having a lengthy conversation about Hot Pockets. I know… wtf, right? We talk about some random shit in my house. Hot Pockets aren’t exempt. When I was a kid, I thought Hot Pockets were the best invention. I even wrote a small report on them for school about their greatness. I thought that they were packaged in something that would, quite literally, keep them hot while they were in your pocket. Great for people who wanted a snack while they were in class or people who couldn’t take a break at work. I was amazed. What a genius idea.

So, I didn’t grow up wanting to be a ballerina or a veterinarian. I grew up wanting to work for whoever made Hot Pockets. My parents wanted me to aim high. So I did.

I love the innocence of childhood. Luckily, I’m surrounded by young nieces and nephews to remind me how great life is when you’re young. Actually, I’m going to leave y’all with a joke my 4-year-old niece told me last weekend that had her rolling around in laughter.

A hippo put on a purple coat.

…….. I wish I was as funny as her.

Also, Happy (late) Mother’s Day to all the Mom’s that read here. Y’all are strong, kickass women. I raise my invisible morning mimosa to you!

When I was 13 my mom came to pick me up from school with tissues corkscrewed in her nose and pajamas with pink bunnies plastered all over them. Her go-to method of punishment was always embarrassment. If I was going to call my teacher a bitch and my behavior was going to embarrass her, she was going to storm in freshly rolled out of bed and looking like a hot mess to embarrass me. And, believe me… it worked. Every. Damn. Time. One time I got suspended from school for drinking and she came to pick me up during the lunch period with Baby Got Back blasting from the car. Believe me, there’s nothing more embarrassing at the age of 17 than your mom rapping about big butts while she raises the roof in front of your entire school. Cringe.

My parents live on the complete opposite side of the country from us so we only see them one or two times a year. Honestly… it’s painful. Even though I live in the same town as Alex’s entire family and see his mom multiple times a week, nothing will ever be the same as MY mom and MY family. Yes, you can be 29 and married with a life of your own and still miss your mom. Don’t judge, guys. Didn’t your mother teach you that?

So, early Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms around these parts. I know there are a lot. Thanks for being strong kick-ass women. My respect for y’all runs deep.

(Yes, I’m posting my Mother’s Day post early because, let’s face it – everyone is going to post their’s on Sunday. This way you won’t be like ‘dear lord, another Mother’s Day post? Haven’t I read a million of these today already?’ BAM.)

(Also, I was a really good kid. These are literally the only two times I ever got in trouble at school.)